My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living. — Anaïs Nin

I love that.

That’s why I am in constant awe of those brave men & women who dare to live, their way. To leave when it’s right. Or stay, even when it isn’t easy. To explore. To protect. To take that leap of faith.

To gamble all.  Which has more to do with guts than cash.

Tennessee Williams expressed – if I interpret him correctly – the same thing in different, equally eloquent words:

If the writing is honest it cannot be separated from the man who wrote it. — T.W.

Tennessee nailed it. Imagine a love song – an honest one. Or a song about loosing true love. They may not be autobiographical as such. But something from the life, soul, love or pain of that writer is there, and no-one else could have made it so.

Huh. I get shivers.

Clearly, it’s time for bed.

But tomorrow I shall tell you about a little town in the middle of nowhere, that was so holy that hugging, kissing, holding hands and especially indecent dressing (and it was specific; bearing a belly was fine, knees an absolute no-no) were strictly forbidden by city rules.

And that’s  a story that came to me whilst I was living it…

~*♥*~

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